


Isolation For Two

by cas_tielle



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, angst???, i dunno man, i'm sick i'll update the tags later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_tielle/pseuds/cas_tielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>❝a kingdom of isolation<br/>and it looks like<br/>i'm the queen❞<br/>– elsa the snow queen</p><p>A queen needs a king, you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isolation For Two

Jack is in trouble.

He had known that the minute he and Bunny had started to brawl. Mind you, it hadn’t started out as a one. A small argument spirals out of control and the next thing Jack knows, the earth beneath his feet is opening up and swallowing him whole. He doesn’t even remember what they were fighting about. It’s probably something unimportant. It usually is.

And now look where he is. A stupid mountainside on the middle of nowhere, covered in a deep layer of stupid sno–

There are a lot of stupid things  about his situation, but the snow isn’t one of them. No, the snow might be the finest he’s ever seen. Soft, white, powdery. Jack sinks to his knees, feeling the white fluff. And beneath it all, something hard.

His staff!

He scrambles for it gratefully, glad that it’s made its way here.

 _Otherwise I’d have no way out of here,_  Jack thinks, twirling the staff.  _Wherever ‘here’ is._

Jack can feel the wind swirling around him, raising him up as he sets off to ride the wind – when he hears it.

_Grrr._

Slowly, he turns around and finds himself  nearly nose-to-nose with a snarling, slobbering, ready-to-rip-him-apart wolf.

He freezes. Barely breathes. “Good doggy,” he whispers, taking a ginger step away. Jack’s staff comes around his back, readying itself to strike. “Good dogg–”

With a growl, the wolf pounces on him, staff flying back into the snow. He struggles to push it off him, grunting with the effort.

Its snapping muzzle is near his chest, and Jack barely manages to hold it back.

“Stop that!”

Jack looks up and nearly dies, though whether it is from relief at his deliverance or suddenly looking at the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, he’ll never know. 

“Stop it!” she says again, and pats her thighs. “Here, Caba!”

Eagerly, the wolf leaves Jack for the girl, and he can’t blame it. It curls itself around her ankles, and she laughs and drops to her knees, stroking its fur. It purrs like a cat, like it hadn’t just been inches away from tearing his throat out.

The second thing he notices is his staff’s imprint in the snow. He scrambles over to get it. But the first thing he notices, as he points the staff in their direction, is the girl’s hair.

It’s pure white. Soft, and light to the touch, or so he’s betting, it looks like the snow. And most of all, it looks like Jack’s.

With gentle fingers, he touches his hair. Jack has never seen anyone with the same unusual, white hair that he has. But he keeps his staff pointed at her anyway.

The wolf growls at him.

“Who are you?” Jack demands. “Why’d you send that dog after me? What are you doing here?”

The girl pets the fluffy head once more and stand up, scoffing. “Excuse me, Caba is  _not_  a dog,” she sniffs, “She’s a snow wolf. And I could ask you the same thing. If you recall, I’m not the one who shot out of a random hole in the ground. What are  _you_  doing in  _my_  forest?”

Caba yips.

“A friend sent me.” Jack scowls. Bunnymund had probably sent him here on purpose, in the middle of nowhere.

“Who are you?” The white-haired girl takes another step forward. The staff trains on the wolf’s head.

“Stay back,” he warns, “I don’t want to have to hurt you.” Caba looks as miffed as a snow wolf can, but her owner guffaws.

“You?” she choked out. “Hurt  _me_?” Another snort. “Hah! Who do you think you are?”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to look offended. Being laughed at is just as bad as being invisible. “I’m Jack Frost,” he says, somewhat haughtily, as he hesitantly lowers his staff.

Her eyebrow goes up and the corner of her mouth follows. “Really,” she says. “You’re Jack Frost. Like the myth?”

“I’m not a myth!”

The girl still looks dubious. “Jack Frost doesn’t exist,” she insists.

Usually, Jack’s against hitting girls, especially pretty ones, but she is infuriating. So with a flick of his wrist, the pile of snow beside her flies up, and –  _plop!_  – she is buried under.

“Then how’d I do that?” Jack calls. “If I’m not Jack Frost, I mean.” 

A white head pops out from under the snow, her mouth dropped open. Jack relishes her shocked expression but too soon, it fades. Then it is quickly replaced by an all-knowing smile. It makes him suddenly uncomfortable.

She gets up, brushing the white off her dress and hair. “Okay, then,  _Mr. Frost_ ,” she says, walking right up to him so that they’re face to face. “That was good, really good. You surprised me.”

Jack smirks, confidence returned, but with a lingering feeling that he is missing something. Something quite important. “How many other people do you know who can do that?” he brags.

 _More than you might think,_ she muses. 

“Not many,” she says aloud. 

“What’s your name, Wolf-Girl?”

“Qu–” The girl cuts off. She always introduces herself with her title, but she decides against it this time. She’s come to get away from all royals and formalities, to be treated like she isn’t superior, right?

“Elsa,” she says finally. “Just Elsa.” She says it again to remind herself that’s what she is. _Normal_. _I’m just a commoner._

“Elsa. What are you doing here?”

She bristles.  _She_  should be the one asking that, and she says so. “I live here,” she adds.

The boy, Jack Frost, she supposes, looks around. “And where exactly is ‘here’?”

It’s a valid question, but Elsa’s a little insulted that he doesn’t recognize her kingdom. “This–” Elsa throws her arms out, “–is Arendelle. Surely you’ve heard of it before.”

“Not once in my life.”

Caba is feeling ignored again, so she barks. Elsa looks down, the boy jumps, and she laughs. “You’re right, Caba,” she says, and Caba is petted. “Maybe we should tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Jack gets the uneasy feeling that he’s in the dark again. Elsa gives him a sly smile.

“Or maybe we shouldn’t tell him,” Elsa tells the wolf. Jack’s very irritated now; the girl is teasing him.

“Stop playing games!”

“I know something you don’t.” That explains her smile, Jack reasons.

“Just tell me.”

Elsa winks. “Why don’t I just show you instead?”

Then Jack is engulfed in a cloud of white, swirling in the mini-snowstorm that Elsa has just created. Blurry, cold, he squints to try and see. Slowly spinning, Jack finds himself resting atop the snowy cyclone.

“How’s the view, Frost?” Elsa yells from below. She’s grinning, no longer teasing but looking genuinely satisfied with his expression.

He doesn’t say anything, he’s too surprised. Laughing madly, she brings her arms down and the cyclone folds in on itself, dropping Jack. This time it’s  _his_  head, with his mouth agape, that’s stuck in the snow.

“You just–!” He’s too stunned. “How’d you do that?!”

“Same as you, I guess. You tell me.” Elsa sticks her hand out and he takes it, shaking off his clothes.

“You’re a Guardian, too? How’s that possible?”

She frowns. “What in the world is a guardian?” Elsa asks.

“Guardian, capital ‘g’. You know, the Guardians. The Sandman. The Tooth Fairy. The Easter Bunny. Santa Claus–”

He is interrupted by snorting laughter. 

“Santa Claus?” she chokes. “I thought he lived in the North Pole!”

Jack glances at her still laughing figure. “He’s Russian,” he says, which sends her into another fit of giggles.

“ _Russian?_ ”

“Yes,” grumbles Jack. Elsa is becoming annoying, rather quickly. He’s not used to being ridiculed by someone other than Bunny.

She wipes a tear from her cheek. “Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Well, it’s true,” Jack mutters under his breath, but she doesn’t hear him. It’s better this way, anyway. 

Abruptly, with Caba by her side, Elsa turns and begins to walk uphill, away from Jack. She bets he’ll try to follow, and he does. He’s a few steps behind, though, confused.

“Wait, hey, Elsa!” calls Jack. “Where are you going?” His feet stop moving. Watches after her helplessly. He needs her help to find a way out of here, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Why don’t you follow me and find out?” She laughs again, and Caba barks. The wolf’s laughing at him, too. It spurs him on.

The trio treks through the snow, Elsa in the lead, Caba bounding beside her, and Jack, always a few feet away. He’s asked her multiple times where they’re going, but every time she’s shushed him with her finger. If he knew where he was going, he’d have left her ages ago.

They pass trees, and snow, and more trees, and more snow. Not much else is in the middle of nowhere, thinks Jack. But finally, after what feels like forever, when the sky is beginning to darken, they arrive where there is more than just foliage and snow. There is a large boulder, sitting atop a small ledge. It’s not just large, though, it’s  _enormous_. 

Upon closer inspection, Jack realizes that it’s actually more like a cave, made with the rock. Caba enters eagerly; Elsa ducks under the arch that poses as a doorway. Hesitantly, he follows her. He’d like to think it’s mostly out of curiosity.

There’s a blanket on the floor. It’s the first thing that strikes him as bizarre, though it won’t be the last. 

“What’s the blanket for?” he wonders out loud.

“To use. To sit on. To cover myself with. What else?” Elsa says, so matter-of-factly. “It gives this place a homey feel.”

“You live here?”

“Of course not. I visit.” She pauses. “It’s a…getaway house.”

He regards the cave a bit more. Elsa has also brought in a pitcher, for water; a pillow, for comfort; and a slab of wood. Looking closer, he sees that it’s the same size as the archway. “Perfect for a door when it gets too cold,” he says to himself, dropping his staff in an untouched corner.

“It’s mostly for Caba,” Elsa says, like she’s just read his mind. “She gets chilly during the night.”

“What about you?” asks Jack. 

Elsa gives him a quirky smile, as if he’s just said something hilarious. “The cold never bothered me anyway.” She turns away now, folds the blanket and sets it in the corner. It’s then that Jack notices: there’s a hole in the roof. 

Before he can ask why, Elsa’s standing under it and she’s jumping up, grabbing the edges of the rock and lifting herself up. She’s struggling a bit, so Jack locks his hands together and places it under her boot. “Here, push off of my hands.” 

She does, then moves out of the way as Jack hefts himself up, accepting her helping hand for the second time today. When he stands, he finds himself looking over one of the most spectacular views he’s ever seen in his life.

From the rooftop of that boulder, Jack can see the vast hills of Arendelle stretching over miles and miles all around him, as far as the eye can see and further. Snow capped mountain tops rise up above the lush green, the thawed forests below. And even lower than that, he sees a village and its lights sparkling in the light of dusk. He can imagine children and families right now, snuggling up to the warm blaze from their fireplaces. There should be merry people, greeting each other amiably and laughing together. And from here, he can almost hear the sound of bells, jingling on the harnesses of reindeer.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Elsa’s quiet voice brings him out of his reverie. Jack can feel her presence, just behind him, just watching. Just like him.

“Yeah,” he says. “So this is the great Arendelle, huh? It’s amazing.”

Elsa beams. “I know.”

There’s a glimmer of something sparkling from a mountain not too far from the village, and he’s surprised to see what seems like a palace resting on the peak. “Is that a  _castle?_ ”

“Yeah,” Elsa says. He detects something like pride in her tone. “I made it.”

Jack breaks his gaze from the view to look at her. “You what?”

“I made that castle. It’s completely made out of ice, see?” Normally, Elsa is more humble than this, but something about this boy makes her want to impress him, though she can’t fathom why.

Jack is indeed impressed. As far as he knows, creating ice palaces isn’t in his power description. “Whoa.”

Sitting down, Elsa pats the spot next to her. “Come on, Frost,” she says, “Have a seat. The sun’s going to set in a few minutes. You won’t want to miss this.”

She’s right – again. The sunset…it’s unbelievable. 

As the fiery sun sets behind the mountains, its fading hues paint the darkening sky. The snowy peaks shine, and the colors weave through the heavens, creating intricately beautiful patterns that take his breath away. The sunset is a work of art, decorated by a brush that’s wielded by skillful artist. Each thin, white cloud, each tendril of light; it’s his thick brush stroke across the world’s canvas. 

Jack turns his head slightly so he can see Elsa’s face, almost glowing in the waning light of the sun. Her face is radiant as she watches the sky; she isn’t looking at him. The wind is blowing softly, and she should be shivering in her dress and thin cape, but she watches it like there’s nothing else in the world.

“It’s the most wonderful thing in the world,” Elsa says, eyes still fixed upwards. “I know I’ve seen this so many times before, but every time I come up here, it’s like I’m watching it again for the first time, you know? You just can’t stop looking at it, it’s just so beautiful.” 

“I know the feeling.” Jack’s not looking at the sunset.

As if feeling the heat of his gaze, Elsa looks at him. Her cheeks tinge as pink as the failing sun. “Oh,” she says softly, and Jack smiles. They turn back to the sky, both feeling something warm and fluttery. 

They stay that way until the sun has gone to the other side of globe and the moon has taken its place. Then they just wait, as the village lights go out one by one, the stars become more visible, blinking down at the two still figures, so close they can feel the heat of each other’s bodies. 

Jack exhales deeply, watching as the puff of air mingles with hers. His eyes trail upwards, tracing the shapes of the constellations that dot the sky. He sticks out a hand, points to a group of stars, right above them. 

“See those four stars?” he says. Elsa nods. “That’s the head of Gelida. She’s supposed to be an ice serpent, I think.” He scratches his head. “Or was it a dragon? I think it was a dragon. Either way, it’s my favorite constellation.”

“Why’s that?” Elsa asks him, and he has to pause to think about his answer.

“Gelida was my favorite constellation before I became a Guardian,” Jack says, “And I used to think I liked it because, well, it was cool. I mean, it’s an  _ice dragon_. How cool is that?” He laughs softly. “But now it’s more like a connection to The Man in the Moon, and my– _our_ –element. I guess I always was an ice person, even before I got my powers.”

“That’s really cool,” Elsa says. She nudges him softly. “Now that’s another thing we share.”

“What?”

“I’ve just decided. Gelida’s my new favorite constellation, too.” She smiles, and Jack can almost ignore how far from home he is, just focusing on this girl and her utterly mesmerizing eyes.

They lie there comfortably, just looking at each other. Silent evaluations. Quiet and sweet.

“Besides Gelida,” says Elsa suddenly. “I don’t know much about you, Frost.”

“And I don’t know much about you, Elsa. We did just meet a few hours ago.” 

“Well, let’s change that. I ask one question, you ask a question.” She taps her chin. “Where are you from?”

Jack smiles. That’s a common question, though not one he gets to answer often. He’s just glad that he’s gotten his memory back; it’s nice to remember these small things. “Burgess,” he says. “My turn: How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she answers, somewhat ruefully. “I feel old.”

“You don’t look old,” he says, and she smiles. 

“What about you?” Elsa says. She’s not sure, and she couldn’t guess if she had to. This boy, he looks young, but he has a quality to him that makes him seem ageless.

“I think I should be biologically eighteen or nineteen by now,” says Jack, scratching his head. 

“You  _think?_ ”

“Well, yeah, it’s a bit complicated. I’m kind of from a couple hundred years ago, then I was skating, then Amelia broke the ice, and then I think I died, but The Man in the Moon froze me, and I broke out a year ago, and stopped Pitch from taking over with darkness, so I really haven’t been keeping track.” He knows his ramblings probably make no sense, and judging by the puzzled look on Elsa’s face, he’s right. It’s hard not being flustered around her. He speaks slowly, trying to find the words to make it sounds less  _creepy_.

“I was born about two centuries ago, but I died saving my sister–” that sounds really creepy. “–but The Man in the Moon saved me by freezing my body. He woke me up last year and I became a Guardian.”

Elsa is quiet for a long time, long enough that Jack begins to feel nervous. He knew he shouldn’t have used the word ‘died’. 

She lets out long whistle finally. “Well, I can’t say my life is nearly as exciting,” she says. “But are you really two hundred years old?”

“Give or take. But I was dead for about ninety percent of my life.” He cringes. That has to be the creepiest thing he’s said yet. “But I’m eighteen biologically, I think,” he says hastily.  _Jeez,_  Jack thinks, _this is what happens to my social skills when I only hang around the Guardians and ten-year old kids._  Elsa’s definitely not like that, though. He can see that she has a lot of poise; not socially awkward. She knows exactly how to behave.

Elsa laughs, thank God. “Eighteen’s good,” she says.

“So you don’t think I’m creepy?”

She turns to him and raises an eyebrow, something that Jack notices she does a lot of. “Frost,” she says, “I have a pet talking snowman. You’re not creepy.” Jack looks back up to the sky, smiling.

The night is surprisingly warm, slight breeze passing through every now and then. Arendelle’s village is only defined by the occasional stray light that’s still on, so Jack and Elsa are left to admire the stars.

“Do you have any family?”  Elsa looks startled at the question, but recovers quickly. 

“I do,” she says, “My little sister, Anna, and her husband. My parents died a few years ago.” Jack can hear the sadness that creeps into her voice and surprises himself when he he finds himself wishing he could erase it.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Anything else he can say will sound pathetic, will fall flat.

“They were the only people I talked to for over a decade, I don’t know how I could’ve gotten through all those years if I hadn’t had them.” Elsa’s voice is thick with emotion, he hears her sniffle softly. “They were the greatest people I’ve ever known.”

Jack feels a strange pang, one he’s never felt before, right in the center of his chest, and on impulse, he rolls over and gently turns her face to his. Even beneath the dark sky, her eyes, blue like he’s never seen, glisten brightly. His breath catches at her teary face, and gingerly, his thumb moves over and swipes away the fat droplet rolling down her face. “I would have liked to meet them,” he says quietly.

She nods, it’s all she can manage, not knowing what to say. Jack’s eyes bore into her, kind and caring. Elsa doesn’t know she’ll do if he keeps looking at her like that, her pulse is racing so quickly. So she pulls away and sits up, the lack of his presence making her feel strange. “Alright, enough of this,” she says, wiping her cheeks again for good measure. “No more crying.”

Sitting up, too, Jack is a little confused. He’s decided that he likes it, this strange feeling that this strange girl gives him. He wishes she hadn’t ended that…whatever it was. “Okay.”

“I think it’s my turn for a question now, Frost. What’s your family like?”

“My family now? The Guardians.” Jack smiles a bit, sadly. “But my real family…they’ve been dead a couple hundred years now.” His voice sounds hollow, even to him.

“You don’t need to tell me,” Elsa says hurriedly, “I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, that’s fine,” he manages. “A question for a question, right?” Deep breath. “My parents were pretty normal people, but they loved us both a lot. They always did what was best was, always made sure we were happy; they were the best. And then there was Amelia.” 

Elsa waits patiently for him to continue, not wanting to rush him, but wanting to hear more. 

“She was only nine when I died,” he says, “We were ice-skating on the pond, and she got stuck on a patch of cracked ice. I got her free, but I fell through.” Jack remembers when he first remembered Mellie, remembers how happy he’d been just to remember. He’d remembered his sister, and moreover, he’d saved her! 

But as the time passed, and he thought more about it, the less of a happily-ever-after it seemed. He’d died  _before her very eyes_. Mellie might have blamed herself for his death, maybe for her entire life. He doesn’t even know what had happened to her. And his parents! He’d never gotten to properly say goodbye to them. At first, Jack had never thought to think how his death might have affected his family. He doesn’t like to think about it much these days; he doesn’t know if he really wants to know what happened to his family after he died. 

Because if it was bad; it would be his fault.

“I never thought to think about how my death would affect them.” Pauses. Swallows the growing lump in his throat. “I don’t know what happened to Amelia. What if she was broken up because of me? Maybe she went insane, or refused to talk to anybody. Forever.”

“You  _have_ to trust that she didn’t. Everything plays out exactly how it’s supposed to, Frost.” Even Elsa’s gentle voice isn’t enough to stop the sudden wave of anger – all directed at himself.

“I can’t know that!” Jack’s head turns the other way, refusing to look at her. He’s kept all these doubts bottled up inside too long. Now they’re finally being spoken aloud, and he can’t handle it. “And now she’s dead.”

“That’s the natural order of the world,” she says. “Time moves on, even if you’re frozen at the bottom of a pond.”

A hint of a smile plays at his lips, but he doesn’t let it grow. He’s serious again. “I might not ever find out how she lived. Don’t you get it, Elsa? I wasn’t there to watch my little sister grow up.”

“ _Jack._ ”

He looks at her, she said so forcefully. He starts suddenly, hearing himself graced on her lips for the very first time. They draw back to wrap around his name again. 

“Jack,” Elsa says gently. He’s surprised when she takes his hand in both of hers, but it feels good. Safe. “I don’t know much about dying and coming back to life,” she says wryly, “My sister probably does, though. She died for me.” At his shocked look, she hastens to add, “She came back to life.” Jack looks puzzled, but nods. “But…I just never thought that she would be willing to take a knife for me. I wasn’t there for her much – or at all – for almost her entire life. All these years, the only thing keeping us apart was a thick, wooden door. I was alive; but I wasn’t there to watch my little sister grow up.” She’s just used his words. It sounds odd coming from her mouth.

“I didn’t know your sister; I don’t know what happened to her. But you keep forgetting that  _you saved her_. You traded your own life to save hers, and you gave her a chance to live her life. Jack…” her voice trails off to such a soft tone it stabs something in his heart. “That’s the best thing you could have ever given her as her brother.” She releases one of her hands to cup his face. “That makes you a good person. I know I haven’t known you that long–” she laughs quietly, “–but I already know; you are such a good person, Jack.”

He can’t remember the last time someone’s talked to him like this. It stings, but it feels so, so good.  

Elsa’s forehead rests against his, so lovingly like he’s learned only she can. Her eyes are closed, he can see her chest heave as she breathes, and he goes for it, spontaneity running through his veins.

The first touch of their lips is gentle; tentative. But it burns like fire, searing so that Jack can’t feel anything else, just the sensation of her soft skin, smooth and tender. She trembles with such a fervor that goes far beyond anything he’s ever thought possible. The blood rushes to his head, everything’s a buzz – except Elsa. 

His hands runs up her spine, cradle her neck, thread through her hair. Her breath catches; he can feel it, taste it. This is nothing’s she’s felt before. She’s hesitant to move, but at the thought of Jack, she throws all hesitance out of the window and kisses him harder.

The pleasure is undefinable, and her own desire astounds her as the white-haired boy eases onto his back, his lips never once leaving hers. 

When Elsa pulls back, panting considerably, she keeps her eyes firmly closed. “I hope you know I don’t usually go around kissing strange people I meet in the forest,” she breathes into his mouth. 

Jack’s rumbling chuckle resonates through her. “Luckily for you, I’m not strange,” he says, “Not that much, anyway.” Elsa smiles.

“Hey,” he says softly. He can see her long lashes shut against the world, eyelids sealed tightly. And as beautiful as she looks with her eyes closed, all he wants is to see her cerulean eyes. “Open your eyes.”

Reluctantly, she does, and sees tender eyes staring back, hypnotizing her. Though she wishes she could drown into Jack’s baby blues, two voids of swirling cyan and grey, gently, he sets her down beside him. 

Jack turns and plants his lips on her temple. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, settling and closing his eyes.

Her head resting on his shoulder, Elsa is unmoving, but inside, her heart is pitter-pattering painfully against her ribcage. With each beat, it threatens to burst; and she feels like she’s soaring, like the snow she conjures with a single thought. 

Jack’s arm pulls her closer, and she fears she might scream with an odd bubbly feeling that’s growing steadily in her chest. When was the last time someone has held her like this, and told her she was beautiful? Elsa doesn’t think it’s ever happened before.

Realizing that she’s holding her breath, she exhales. She lets it go. And nothing’s ever felt more right.

Beneath the twinkling stars and the milky twilight, they drift into oblivion with the knowledge that they are safe under the watchful gaze of The Man in the Moon.

 

 

 

In the morning, Jack wakes first, momentarily forgetting where he is, until he looks over at Elsa, sleeping fitfully on his shoulder. He could fight the grin threatening to break out over his face, but there’s really no use. He’s grinning anyway.

He stays where he is, not moving so he doesn’t disturb her, just listening to the sounds of the early morn. White birds emerge from the tall trees, squawking and cawing. The sun is just beginning to rise, and it’s almost as brilliant as when it sets. Pale, blue dawn breaks into streaks of magnificent orange, and so it rises. The snow glows delicately, vibrant and electrifying.

Out of his peripheral vision, Jack sees Elsa’s eyes open, but she’s unmoving. Just watching. Just waiting. 

“How long have you been up?” He speaks softly, like any loud noises would shatter this perfect setting.

“A while now.” She smiles groggily and sits up, stretching, then crawling over to the hole in the roof. Peering in, Elsa’s glad to see Caba curled into the blanket and snoring fitfully. “We’re lucky it didn’t snow last night. I forgot to cover this up.”

“Yeah, we were a bit  _busy_.”

Her head whips around with an arched brow. Jack’s grinning at her and she flushes pink, but doesn’t turn away. Finally, she pushes herself to her feet. “Vacation’s over,” she says disappointedly. “Arendelle awaits.” Without attending Jack’s answer, she swings herself back into the rocky shelter.

Elsa’s combing through Caba’s fur with her fingers when he comes through the hole, grabbing his staff on the way. “I’ll come and see you the next time I leave Arendelle, okay, girl?” she is saying. “Stay good.” She plants a kiss on the snow wolf’s head, and Caba purrs in delight. Elsa looks up at him. “Say good bye to Caba, Jack,” she says, and there’s no room for argument. 

Grumblingly, he does so, and grumblingly, Caba returns his farewell with a yip that holds the same sentiment. Then with one last pat on her head, Elsa leaves the cave, not even bothering to make sure he is following. 

But he is, like before. “What are you going to do now?” Jack jogs to catch up to her.

“I’m going home.” She sighs. Home means being queen, and being queen means having responsibilities that she still doesn’t know how to deal with.

“Walking?”

She gives him a deadpanned look. “How else am I going to get home? Fly?”

Jack grins again, twirls his staff. “Exactly,” he says, and Elsa just looks at him. “Come here.” He motions for her to jump onto his back.

“You’re not serious,” she says, folding her arms.

“I am.”

With a sigh of mild exasperation, Elsa loops her arms around Jack’s neck and wraps her legs around his waist. “Fly away, Frost.”

Jack whoops, jumps onto his staff and they’re off. Over the treetops and through the branches, he steers his way through obstacles, gripping the wooden baton with his toes. From his back, he hears Elsa’s sharp intake of breath and he laughs out loud. “Isn’t this great?” he yells.

“Are you kidding?” she yells back. “You’re insane!”

Jack just laughs again, knows that she’s just new to flying, is all. 

They’re skimming over the trees and rocks, barely inches from smashing into them as the wind weaves through their hair. It blows her skin, makes it feel like it’s stretching as her cheeks flap. Cold air stings her face, but it’s a welcome feeling, reassuring her that yes, this is all real. Jack is real.

It’s a funny feeling, almost familiar. Elsa has to admit that it’s incredible. Her stomach jumps to her throat, bouncing around like it’s dying to get out and she realizes: this is how he makes her feel. Being with Jack is flying like there are no limits, because there aren’t. Not when it’s just them.

Now it’s Elsa’s turn to shout, cheering with the realization and the sensation of being airborne. Squeezing his waist with her legs, she lets her hands go, one after another, until both her arms are up in the air and she is everything. 

Sensing her excitement is almost enough for Jack to turn around and just watch her, though he knows he shouldn’t. 

He does, anyway, and that glimpse that lasted a fraction of a second is all it takes for his heart to start pumping with something else, aside from the adrenaline from flight. 

 _She’s incredible_. Her loose hair flies out wildly behind her, her face in a permanent expression of exhilaration, of bliss. 

Jack laughs, loud and deep, and yells over the rushing wind: “Look down, Elsa, don’t miss the view!”

She’s seen Arendelle so many times before, she’d thought she’d seen it all, but she’s never seen her home from an aerial view before. The castle is tiny, the houses are smaller, and if she squints really hard, she can see the people bustling out of their homes. 

“I love this!” she shouts, shrieking with laughter.

 _I love your laugh,_  thinks Jack. 

He zooms around the sky, adding in a few extra loops for her benefit, before pointing them in a downward spiral. Gently, he finds an open patch of ground right outside the village, where he jumps off, landing lithely on his feet.

Elsa’s high is slowly wearing off, though she doesn’t think that experience ever will, as she unwinds herself from his body. “That was the best thing ever!” she squeals, throwing her arms back around his neck. Before he can return her embrace, she releases him again and she’s spinning in circles and facing up to the sky. Her long, light skirt billows out around her as she twirls. “I feel like a kid again!”

Jack bows modestly. “Guardian of Fun, at your service,” he says with a smile. “Now why don’t you introduce me to Arendelle?”

 

 

 

He feels out of place in his blue hoodie. At least, compared to the people of the village who leave their houses in more proper clothes than he’s ever seen, much less owned. “Am I under-dressed?” he whispers to Elsa as they attract more stares.

“No, you’re fine,” she says, “Relax, you look great.” She eyes him up and down pointedly and is gratified that he at least has the decency to look the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Jack  feels a tug on his pant leg and looks down. Two identical little girls with matching outfits and pigtails stare back up at him. 

“Hi,” says the one on the left.

“Who are you?” asks her sister.

“Er, hey.” Jack looks at them. “I’m Jack Frost.”

Two pairs of little brown eyes grow wide. “Whoa,” they say together, “That’s awesome!”

“Are you like the myth?” asks one.

“Can you do tricks?” asks the other, and he pins them both with a look.

“I’m not a myth,” he chides, then produces three snowballs from behind his back. “Can you catch this?” Tosses up Snowball One. “Or this?” There goes Snowball Two. “How about this?” Up is Snowball Three.

The girls can’t catch the snow, but they giggle as they bonk heads. Then Lefty’s eyes light up as she spots the person behind Jack. She points, and her sister’s gaze follow.

The two girls get up and run to the white-haired girl, each one clamping onto a leg. “Queen Elsa!”

 _Wait._ Queen _what?_

She laughs. “Hi, Nyla. Hello, Ecka. Happy birthday, you two! How old are you both now?” Elsa squats, so she’s eye-level with the twins.

They each hold up three fingers. “We’re six,” they say.

“Wow, you guys are getting really big now,” Elsa smiles, humoring them. “I think your mom is looking for you guys. You better go find her before she gets mad, okay?” She pulls gently on their pigtails and the girls scurry off.

Elsa straightens up, dusting off as Jack approaches her with a furrowed brow. She’s waiting eagerly for him to say something, hear his reaction. He opens his mouth. 

Nothing comes out. Tries again.

Still nothing.

“That’s okay, take your time,” she says, amused. Her arms are crossed.

“ _Queen?_ ” he sputters at last. “You’re the freaking  _queen?_ ”

With an overly sweet smile, Elsa grabs him and puts her mouth right next to his ear. “You’re not the only big-shot around here, Mr. Frost,” she grins, stunning him with a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Come on now; meet my family.”

Princess Anna and her fiancé are waiting on the other side of town, in the town square. She’s just wondering whether her sister will be much longer when she sees Elsa rounding the corner. “Finally!” she exclaims. “It’s about time already, we’ve been waiting for you  _forever_. We – oh.” Anna pauses as she sees another white head coming in behind her.

Well, ‘coming in’ isn’t really the right way to say it. It’s more like he was being dragged in.

“Hello, Anna,” Elsa says breathlessly as she hugs her sister. She waves briefly at her soon-to-be brother-in-law, who is nuzzling his reindeer’s nose. “Hello, Kristoff. Hi, Sven.” They both greet her with a nod.

By now, there’s a small crowd gathered in the square. Queen Elsa goes on breaks every now and again, but she’s never come back with someone else before.

“Hi, sis,” says Anna, casting a curious glance at her companion. “Who’s  _this?_ ”

“Right, sorry.” Elsa grabs his arm and pulls him forward. “This is…” She trails off, wanting to push herself to finish that sentence. Should she? She’s not usually so daring, but this isn’t usually. What the hell, she thinks.

“This is Jack Frost, my more-than-a-friend,” she declares.

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jack’s head whips towards her. She’s wearing her signature smirk, taunting him to deny it. The town’s plump gossip ladies clap their hands together, the men look surprised(more than a few seem disappointed), the children are delighted, and Princess Anna is quite shocked. “Well,” she says, looking him up and down. “I approve.”

Then Elsa grins at him, that brilliant, beautiful smile, and Jack decides that he likes the sound of being more-than-a-friend.

 

 

**END.**

 


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